


Into The Unknowable

by Just_A_Simple_Writer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Why isn't that a tag?), (at least he's getting there), Beholding Avatar Gerard Keay, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Gerard Keay, The Spiral Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives), except gertrude who regularly gets letters through her front door that just say FUCK YOU, i like to imagine they all live happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_A_Simple_Writer/pseuds/Just_A_Simple_Writer
Summary: She can’t hurt Michael. He’s so … so good. Certainly the only person who’s ever bothered to care about Gerry, and Gerry may or may not be harbouring a little crush on him.He’s difficult not to crush on, really.in which michael gets rescued from the spiral and also gets a boyfriend
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	Into The Unknowable

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a discord conversation and then became. this. whoops
> 
> YES the title is a pun on that one frozen song. sue me

Gertrude is planning something. More specifically, Gertrude is planning something which she has _neglected to inform Gerry about_.

She’s always planning _something_ , but she always tells Gerry about it, even if only to give him strict instructions to keep his nose out of her business.

This time, though, she hasn’t told him a thing. In fact, she’s _lied_ to him, and told him that she isn’t planning anything at all, and _are you sure you didn’t open that last Leitner?_

(He hadn’t, of course. He’s not stupid).

In any case, Gertrude is treating him like he is, and whatever she’s planning, she’s keeping it from him on purpose.

His first thought is that it somehow involves _him_ , but she should know by now that he would help her willingly, even if there was a chance that it would get him killed. He’s never exactly had much of a self-preservation instinct.

He can’t think of anything else that would lead to her lying to him, though. He might not always agree with her methods, but he would never go out of his way to sabotage her.

Unless someone he cared about was going to get hurt.

Unless…

Michael.

_Shit_.

Gerry doesn’t want to believe it, of course, but he can’t think of anything else that would make Gertrude straight up lie to him.

He needs to know exactly what it is she’s planning. He needs to _stop_ her.

She can’t hurt Michael. He’s so … so _good_. Certainly the only person who’s ever bothered to care about Gerry, and Gerry may or may not be harbouring a little crush on him.

He’s difficult _not_ to crush on, really.

God. He won’t let Gertrude sacrifice him, no matter what. Surely there’s someone else, surely whatever she’s planning could use _Gerry_ instead, if she has to sacrifice _someone_.

It’s almost an accident that he finds out what she’s planning, or part of it. The Spiral is planning a ritual, The Great Twisting, and once Gerry knows _that_ it’s not difficult to guess that Gertrude intends to stop it.

Stopping rituals _is_ important, of course. But not so important that Gerry will just let her go about her business, uninterrupted. There has to be another way.

Any further information proves very, very difficult to get hold of. He finds out from Michael that she’s booked two tickets on a boat, and that she plans to leave in two weeks, but what the boat is called and where it’s headed remains a mystery.

The information is there, of course. He can feel it, sitting in the back of his mind. He could just Know, if he really wanted to. If he was really desperate.

But he’s not. Not yet. He can get the information he needs through normal means, without giving himself over to the Beholding.

Except he can’t. He goes through Gertrude’s desk, her handbag, even her _apartment_ , but there’s nothing to indicate where she’s going.

It scares him, honestly. He tells himself he’s not scared, that everything’s going to be fine, but he’s running out of time and the information he needs doesn’t seem to exist anywhere.

Michael doesn’t know either. He just knows that Gertrude’s asked him to go on a _work trip_ with her, and the worst part is that he seems so excited, so pleased that Gertrude is trusting him with this, and Gerry doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

Not yet, anyway. He doesn’t have _proof_ , and he doesn’t want Michael to be scared.

It’s almost too late when he finally gives in, reaching for the information that he knows is there, giving a little more of himself to the Beholding. He wouldn’t, not if he had the choice, but it’s to save Michael, and so it will always be worth it.

It has to be.

The first thing he Knows is that they’ve already left. He’s too late to stop them, to try and reason with either of them, even if he leaves right now.

More importantly, though, he knows where they’re going and how they’re getting there, and that’s enough. The ship is the _Tundra_ , owned by one Peter Lukas, and Gerry knows well enough that he won’t make it onto that ship without Lukas finding out, even if he made it before the ship departed, but in the few minutes after he calms down he realises that he still has time.

He has enough money to book a flight, and it will take the ship a few weeks to get to Russia, to its final destination, and he can easily make it there before they can.

Getting to Sannikov land will be a little harder, given that the island doesn’t technically exist, but he’s confident he can make it. He has to.

He leaves immediately, although he knows he’ll have to spend a couple of weeks in Russia, waiting for the island to actually appear. He Knows _when_ it’s going to appear, which is a useful piece of knowledge, but it worries him, just a little. He hadn’t actively tried to Know that, it had just … appeared.

Still, he has bigger problems.

The weeks in Russia are very unpleasant. He wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re the worst of his _life_ , but they’re certainly up there. The worst part is probably the worry, the fear that he’s going to be too late.

The second worst part is probably the Knowing.

It’s just … happening, now. Not often, only once or twice, but that’s far more than he wants it to be happening (namely, not at all).

Perhaps he’s opened a gate that he never should have touched, but if he _hadn’t_ opened it then he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be able to save Michael.

Maybe it will turn out for the best, in the end.

But probably not. He’s not that lucky.

He Knows as soon as Sannikov land appears above the waves, and he starts trying to charter a boat to take him there. It’s hard, given that the locals don’t believe it’s a real island at all (and they’re right, to an extent), and it’s hours before he can find someone willing to take a crazy Englishman out onto the sea in search of an island that isn’t there.

He doesn’t speak much on the journey out. He’s trying very hard not to Know things, though it’s so difficult when there are so many things he _wants_ to know. How long the journey is, for starters. If he’s going to make it in time.

The _Tundra_ is already there when he arrives, and he barely has time to pay the poor confused fisherman who brought him out here before he’s running across the snow in his too-heavy boots, praying he’s not too late.

He’s too late. When he gets there there’s no sign of Michael, just Gertrude standing silently by an out-of-place yellow door.

Gerry feels _sick_.

“Where is he?” he snarls, as though he doesn’t know.

Gertrude doesn’t even seem surprised to see him. “You’re a little too late,” she says, as though they’re talking about the _weather_. “I’m sorry, Gerard. Really.”

No. He’s not too late, not as long as the door is still here. Michael is in there _somewhere_ , and Gerry won’t just leave him to die alone.

He can at least _try_.

“Fuck you,” he says, and pulls the door open. The corridors beyond are infinite, bending in impossible ways, and Gerry knows he won’t be able to Know anything once he’s in there, even if he wanted to.

“Gerard,” Gertrude says, sharply. “Wait.”

“Fuck you,” he says again, and walks through the door before he can overthink it.

It slams shut behind him, cutting off whatever Gertrude would have said and leaving him alone in the passageways.

He starts feeling sick almost immediately, but he won’t let that stop him. He starts walking into the corridors, picking directions at random. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he needs to find Michael.

Gertrude had said _a little too late_. Michael can’t have been in here too long. He can’t have gone far.

“Michael!” Gerry calls, and the endless twisting corridors eat his words, spitting them back at him as a distorted echo.

“Oh, fuck you,” he snaps, and kicks a wall. “Give him back, you bastard.”

The Spiral doesn’t seem to like that. The passages constrict, an entrance Gerry had been sure he could see disappearing.

“Alright,” he says. Apparently pissing off the entity he’s walking through is a bad idea. “I’m sorry, Jesus. But you’re not having him.”

That doesn’t seem to pacify it, but it doesn’t constrict any further, so he just keeps walking into the unknown, the unknowable.

He doesn’t know how long he walks for. Time doesn’t exactly exist in here, and nor does space, but still, he’s sure he’s making ground.

He’s probably moving faster than Michael. He’ll be scared, lost, barely knowing what he’s got himself into, and Gerry at least has the element of knowledge on his side, not to mention pure determination.

He wonders vaguely what Gertrude had told Michael before she sent him in here. Some pretty lie, perhaps, about how he was going to save the world. Maybe she told him that she’d be waiting for him when he got out.

Maybe she even told him the truth. Told him that she was sending him in here to die, but that his sacrifice was necessary.

Or maybe she didn’t tell him anything at all. Just shoved him through the door and slammed it shut behind him, trapping him in here forever.

No, not forever. Not if Gerry has anything to say about it.

The Spiral doesn’t like his presence, he can tell. He isn’t sure why, if it’s because he’s too connected to the Beholding, or if it’s just cross he told it to fuck off. Maybe it doesn’t have a reason at all, but whatever it is, he’s not welcome here.

More than once he feels like giving up, like curling up in a corner and letting madness overcome him, but he thinks of poor, innocent Michael, Michael who had thrown himself into the Lonely to rescue Gerry without a second thought, without expecting anything back, and he _can’t_ give up.

Michael needs him. And honestly, he needs Michael.

The Beholding presses at the back of his mind, and he can guess that he could use it to get out of here, if he needed to. The Spiral does not like to be perceived, and perhaps if Gerry tried his best to Know it it would just … spit him out.

But he can’t risk it, can’t risk leaving Michael in here alone, and more than that, he doesn’t _want_ to use the Beholding’s powers. He wants to get out of here on his own terms, like he’s lived his life up until now.

Maybe it’s just pure stubbornness, but stubbornness is all he has right now.

He calls out for Michael over and over and over again, until his voice is hoarse with something akin to pain, and every time his own words are just thrown back at him by the endless corridors, and there’s no reply.

There are other people in here, he thinks, though he only sees … impressions of them, reflections in the mirrors. He would help them if he could, but they’re too far gone to save, and he doesn’t have the energy, anyway.

The Spiral is messing with his mind, he can feel it. He keeps slipping up, losing track of what he’s doing here, and he _cannot_ afford to forget, to lose himself here.

How must Michael, already so much closer to the Spiral, be feeling?

Not good. Gerry needs to find him as soon as he can.

He isn’t sure what leads him to Michael, in the end. It’s a … feeling, almost like a gentle tugging on one of his fingers, and he follows it, curious, though some part of him suspects it’s a bad idea.

Still, it’s not like he has anything better.

He begins to be able to see it, almost, after he’s been walking for some time, like a gossamer thread floating on the breeze. It’s … odd. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

It reminds him vaguely of the story of Ariadne and her string. He hopes to God that this one won’t lead him to a monster.

It’s very quickly pushed to the back of his mind when he finally, _finally_ finds Michael, curled up on the ground in a parka which may have once been blue, and was now a horrible, eye burning greenish colour.

The colour of the parka doesn’t matter for more than a moment, and Gerry forgets about the string as he runs over to put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, to turn him over and try to find out if he’s okay, if he’s alive.

His eyes are closed, but he’s still breathing under the heavy parka, and Gerry pulls it off his shoulders without a second thought. It’s not exactly cold here, after all. It’s not exactly anything.

“Hey,” he breathes, shaking Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up.”

And he does, blearily. His eyes, which had been so blue last time Gerry had seen him, are now mismatched, one a pale blue and the other sickly yellow.

It doesn’t matter. If he gets out of here with nothing more than mismatched eyes he will have been very, very lucky.

“Gerry?” Michael asks, trying his best to sit up. “What … are you really here?”

“Yeah,” Gerry says, helping him into a more upright position and checking his pulse. It’s a little faster than usual, but not too irregular. “I’m here. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here faster.”

Michael just stares at him for a moment. “Did Mrs. Robinson send you to fetch me?”

Something in Gerry’s gut twists. “No,” he says shortly. “She had no intention of you making it out of here alive.”

Michael frowns. “That … she wouldn’t do that.”

Gerry doesn’t have the energy to argue with him right now, nor to explain exactly what Gertrude did. “Let’s just get out of here,” he says, instead, and stands up, scooping Michael up in his arms.

Michael’s several inches taller than him, but he’s built like a beanpole and weighs almost nothing, and Gerry has no trouble carrying him.

Usually he would protest to that, insist that he can walk perfectly fine on his own, but for now he just settles against Gerry’s chest, closing his eyes again. “I’m glad you came,” he says, quietly. “I was a little scared, you know. Don’t tell Mrs. Robinson, though.”

Gerry just pushes down the anger that rises in his chest. No point being angry now. “I won’t,” he says, keeping his voice level. “I wouldn’t leave you here, don’t worry.”

“I know,” Michael says, and he sounds so sure of himself.

It’s a few minutes before the euphoria of finding Michael wears off and Gerry realises that they still need to get out of here. Maybe they’re less likely to succumb to madness if they’re together, but it will still happen eventually.

For a while he’s optimistic that maybe he’ll just stumble upon the exit, or that the odd string will return to lead him to a door, but as Michael’s mumblings slowly become less and less coherent he starts to realise that he’s going to have to force his way out.

Fine. Let the Beholding have him; at least it means Michael will be okay.

He isn’t quite sure where to start, but he pulls at the well of power he can _feel_ in the back of his mind and just. Looks.

For a moment nothing changes, and he wonders if maybe he _is_ going mad, trying to win a staring contest with the physical incarnation of madness.

And then the corridors start thrashing, twisting wildly and throwing the two of them back and forth, slamming them into walls and ceilings and floors and mirrors that all blur together. Gerry just keeps his eyes open and tries his best to shield Michael with his body, protecting him from the worst of it.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on, but he can feel the pressure building as the corridors thrash more and more wildly, and then something _snaps_ , and the next wall he slams into gives way, flinging him out of the corridors with Michael still held tight in his arms.

He has no idea where they are. They’re just laying in a warm, muddy field still tanged up in each other, but right now location doesn’t matter.

Except. He does know. South of France, not far from Toulouse. He didn’t even have to _try_.

Oh well. Problem for later. Right now he just feels very bruised, and more than anything he wants to make sure that Michael is okay.

He’s awake, at least, trying his best to sit up. His eyes are still different colours and his hair seems … tangled, to say the least, but other than that he seems fine.

At least on the outside.

“Gerry?” he says again, questioning. “You saved me.”

Something akin to pride bubbles up in Gerry’s chest, though it doesn’t completely chase out the anger there. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Michael smiles brightly and wraps his arms around Gerry’s neck. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Gerry mumbles, feeling almost embarrassed. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Still,” Michael says, and presses a soft kiss to Gerry’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Gerry just doesn’t know what to say to that. His mind has blue-screened, which seems very ironic considering he just _escaped_ losing his mind.

Michael, of course, takes it as a rejection. “Oh,” he starts, pulling away a little. “I just … I thought … I’m sorry, I overstepped.”

“No,” Gerry says quickly, as soon as his brain is back online. “No, you didn’t. I don’t mind. Really.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Michael smiles, soft and shy, and this time when he leans in Gerry meets him in the middle, and then they’re kissing.

There are still a hundred things wrong. Gerry needs to have a serious conversation with Michael about trusting Gertrude, and they need to make sure they’re both still sane, although he _feels_ sane. There’s also the slight issue of the fact that he may or may not be on his way to becoming a Beholding avatar.

Still, none of that seems important right now. They’re alive, the sun is shining, and they’re together.

That’s what matters.

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my [tumblr](https://jaysworlds.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
